


Careful what you wish for

by CosmicBash



Category: Eminem (Musician), Machine Gun Kelly (Musician)
Genre: Because we need some of that, Blood, Boy is dehydrated and Em is a tall glass of water, Fist Fights, Flirting, Flustered Marshall, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Kelly is thirsty as hell in this, M/M, Paul is tired of Em's shit, Phone Sex, Sexting, Voice Kink, Whump, sexy selfies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:35:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21948169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicBash/pseuds/CosmicBash
Summary: Eminem finds himself being propositioned by Machine Gun Kelly and is understandably suspicious. Of course this is porn so Kelly is a thirsty little shit and Em is a flustered asshole.
Relationships: Colson Baker | Machine Gun Kelly/Eminem
Comments: 31
Kudos: 130





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! Sorry about the lack of updates to my fanfiction, I'm very particular about them even though I'm sure they all come off messy as hell anyway. I like to hop between works whenever I get stuck or an idea comes to me so I don't lose it. Hence all these damn prompts. I've had this done for a little bit now just waiting around in my docs and decided I can't leave you all hanging for the holidays so here you go!  
> (This is not edited at all. Please forgive me!)

"F-fuck," The curse is gasped out, in what almost sounds like aroused surprise from lips that are failing not to curl up into a smile. Blue eyes are wide, their pupils dilated and locked on his own. The reaction is shocking enough to make Marshall hesitate, the fist he has cocked back to break the annoying blonde rappers nose freezing in the air. 

Machine Gun Kelly is pinned beneath him, sporting a bloody lip and such an awestruck look on his face that Marshall feels like he's starring in some shitty tabloid story. MGK shows up at Eminem Concert! Fist fight ensues! The concept itself is beyond juvenile, as if a 46 year old man like himself would actually stoop to that level. Yet here they were, back stage and on the dirty concrete floor entourages nearby arguing.

Security uses his moment of hesitation to pull them apart, both rappers large body guards easily removing them from one another. With a large hand literally picking him up into the air by the back of his hoodie Marshall actually does feel like a child. Kelly is being dragged across the floor and up to his feet, gaze never leaving the brunette's. There are people continuing to yell and argue around them but Marshall can't focus, his attention locked on the annoyingly smug bleach blonde across the room. 

The satisfied look he's got on his face makes the older rapper regret not taking the swing when he had the chance. Heart beating faster in his chest than it has in years, since before he got sober. The bodyguard and his own dignity are all that stop him from crossing the room to grab the boy by his short hair, and knock those dumb diamond fangs from his mouth. 

In hindsight Marshall knows he should have saw a confrontation coming, Killshot had gone viral like any one of his singles was prone to, and the public had reacted beyond his expectations. If there was one thing the internet loved, it was a musical feud. The rising popularity of diss tracks in recent years only continued to prove that no matter what year it was, a good diss could get the masses rolling. His fans had gone off like attack dogs, flooding every video, picture, or article related to MGK to roast him. Vocalize how he had won the 'battle' and not to mess with the 'king' of rap. Their actions always caused a mixture of amusement and annoyance for Marshall. 

Sometimes their obsession with him went too far, was the reason he couldn't live his fucking life like a regular artist. Fame was both a blessing and a curse, he wanted nothing more than to just release his music and rap with his fans and then go home, curl up in bed or maybe go for a walk and just not have to be in front of a goddamn camera. But Kelly's diss track had really set them off, some were even calling for a hit to be put out. 

As irritating and surprisingly deep as some of the kids digs had hit Marshall wasn't petty or crazy enough to want him dead. Bloody and bruised? After tonight, that was what he wanted more than anything. The little shit had waltzed into his backroom, chains and jewelry jangling. A pair of stupidly tight yellow jeans clinging to his legs worse than some of the sluts he had routinely avoided after shows, and an equally tight shirt with its sleeves ripped off. Calling him old man and asking if he was interrupting his after show snooze with a too wide smile on his face. 

Marshall had been in shock the first two or three minutes, glued to his spot on the loveseat and just staring at the blonde in disbelief. He couldn't believe the kid would actually show up, try to confront him in person. But no, there the little shit was crossing the room to steal a pretzel stick out of his snack bowl. The little smirk he got on his face as he sucked the salt off it was what got Marshall moving. Body jerking up off the couch and his fist finding it's way into the taller rappers shirt. Pulling the tight material so hard it actually tore at the collar. 

From there it was a bit of a blur, the words being tossed between them unimportant before they started actually fighting. For having 8 inches on the older rapper he was surprisingly weak, giving Marshall no problem at taking him down. Apparently he didn't do well with having his wind knocked out either because the kid had barely struggled to usurp the brunette from his position above him. Marshall was sure he could have easily beaten the kid to a bloody pulp if no one had intervened.

Hell if he hadn't hesitated Kelly would be struggling not to bleed all over himself instead of standing there looking all smug. He's gotta remind himself again that he isn't a child, and won't let something like this happen again. 

The next time Kelly and him come in contact it's only been about 3 months, again the blonde is in his back room. This time relaxing on the couch, happily munching away waiting for him to finish his set. The sight of him instantly sours Marshall's mood, which before that had been over the moon. The crowd was exceptionally receptive and interactive that night, despite it being a small surprise performance. 

The other difference is Paul, standing next to the blonde chatting away. They're smiling and talking with each other like they both aren't standing in his room, interrupting his after show routine. Paul at least has the decency to give him an apologetic look before explaining that this time the kid had requested a chance to sit down and apologize, his tone heavily implying that Marshall needed to play nice. Paul had almost had a meltdown when he found out about the fist fight, pissed that the venues team would let the rapper through and then at Marshall for taking the first swing. Paul had given him the same damn speech he always gives whenever he did something stupid or set off the media. Constantly trying to remind Marshall how the industry worked nowadays and pushing the idea that he should focus more on collaborations instead of feuds. Shit was annoying.

Kelly was sitting there arms stretched out across the back of the couch, just looking at him. Practically checking him out with the way his eyes roved up from Marshall's ankles to his neck. Quickly darting up to meet his gaze when he was finished, a mischievous look in his eye. "Paul?" Marshall was surprised by how quiet and polite the blonde's tone was, a toothy smile being flashed up at his manager now. "Mind if we speak alone?"

The request made Marshall's hair stand up on the back of his neck, not from intimidation, there was nothing intimidating about the scrawny beanpole draping itself across the couch. The boy was wearing yet another ridiculously tight pair of jeans, this time a light color littered with holes and rips. Only an open too large jacket draping his shoulders, no shirt on beneath. The brunette's eyes zeroed in on the artwork that covered his adversary, wondering how much of the art actually meant something and how much was just drunken scribbles and 'cool' stuff. 

The only word he could think to describe the feeling inside him was anticipation. He was curious why the young gunner would suddenly have a change of heart and want to come apologize. Was he that much of a pussy? Afraid of how thoroughly stans and critics alike were slamming him, and his rushed album. Ready to come groveling to the rap god for forgiveness and mercy. The thought actually brought a small smirk to Marshall's lips, one that was quickly hid by a tongue to his cheek. Maintaining a poker face was no problem, even before he became famous the older rapper had spent most of his school age years perfecting it. Wanting to give no reaction at all to the bullies and assholes that pestered him in his youth. They may have been able to bust his skin but not his mask.

"On the condition that if you two decide to duke it out again like a pair of children you keep it away from the medias prying eyes." Paul looked tired, eyes glancing between them and the phone he had pulled out to scroll through. No doubt fielding emails and bookings while they spoke. 

"Damn, here I had TMZ coming over in a few for a private after party." Marshall sighed, tossing his water bottle across the room and running a hand across his shaved hair for affect. "Guess I gotta text Harvey and cancel."

Kelly pulled a confused face but Paul just rolled his eyes at him and strode past. Squeezing his shoulder along the way. "Yeah, yeah but really. Don't make tomorrow's headlines, alright?"

Marshall kept his gaze on Paul until he was out the door, and it audibly clicked closed. He could feel the other rappers eyes on his back, the silence of the room almost screaming at them. Marshall didn't care, just turned and ignored the blonde on the couch and went straight for the mini fridge across the room. Snagging himself a new bottle of water, and glancing at the reflection in the mirror. Like he expected the kids own head had swiveled to follow him, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he again gave the older rapper a once over. Not realizing the brunette could see him do so.

Again the look stumped Marshall, his mind only supplying him dozens of horny fans similar looks for comparison. Almost like the kid wanted to fuck him, maybe the insinuations he had made in his diss weren't far off. God knows the kid had to have looked up to him like a god throughout his childhood. Everything about him was a knock off version of his old self, from the bleached blonde hair to his stupid earrings. Marshall was sure it was more likely that Kelly was just desperate to be him, eyeing up the unobtainable like some stray dog outside of a deli window. 

"So…"Kelly finally breaks the silence, their eyes meeting through the mirror as Marshall takes a sip of his new water. The kid pauses, like he's trying to find the words to say. It irritates the brunette, he knows if he was going to be showing up and holding up another mans time he would have his goddamn speech planned out. Couldn't Kelly make some fucking cue cards?

"So you're ready to finally man up and take back what you said about my fucking daughter Kelly." There's more aggression in his tone and the way he turns around to look at the young gunner then he means. It's a reflex, anytime Hailie is mentioned he can't keep his cool. She's the one thing in the world that can break his facade.

To his surprise Kelly actually looks confused and slightly offended, scoffing as he turns his whole body and gets up on a knee to lean over the couch. "Wait you're still fucking hung up on that shit dude? Like c'mon it was 6 years ago."

The retort has Marshall's temper rising, body shifting back to rest against the counter. One hand dropping down the grip the edge. He can't believe the kid is that fucking stupid, that he came here and was still going to defend himself. A dad himself yet he couldn't seem to comprehend why Marshall was pissed.

"And-"The blonde was continuing a hand coming up to wave and make motions in the air. "And it's really a compliment, I mean, she obviously got her looks from you. No offense to Kim or whatever but, only one of her parents is smoking hot so it's obvious which she takes after more."

The comment has Marshall actually coughing on the sip of water he was taking to calm down for Paul's sake. Not expecting such a brazen and stupid comment. It takes him a moment to recover, wrist coming up to rub across his mouth. Eyes locked onto Kelly the whole time, noticing how his reaction tugs at the corner of the other mans mouth.

Kelly doesn't give him a chance to speak just plays with the hair at the back of his head and throws his arm in the air. "You don't actually think I'm here to apologize or some shit right? I'm not some little bitch who's gonna come grovel at your feet." 

"Then what the fuck are you doing here wasting my time Kelly?" The plastic bottle crinkles between his fingers. Kelly shoots him another look before pulling himself up and over the couch, shoes audibly tapping against the floor when he lands. The blonde rapper straightens out his back and adjusts his jacket, pulling it up and onto his shoulders.

"To finish what we started." The young gunner actually tries to pull a tough face as he says it, striding closer to Marshall. Eyebrows knitting together and mouth turning down into a scowl. It's laughable, seeing the twig try and come of intimidating. Leaning so far back he's almost arching his back slightly. With all the tattoos and what visible muscle definition he has it's not hard to imagine a stranger finding it almost menacing. However Marshall has already taken him to the floor once, felt how the kid had to only weigh about 150 like himself. Which with their huge difference in height said enough.

A snort is all that Marshall allows to escape, his own arms crossing over his chest in front of him. Kelly stops only four feet away, pushes his sleeves up to his elbow and crosses his arms as well. The older rapper wants to snort again when he sees how the blonde flexes his muscles as he does it. The whole situation is so laughable, Marshall almost doesn't want to believe it. A voice in the back of his head questioning if he had been slipped something at some point in the night. But no the kid is actually there in front of him, legs in a wide stance that leaves them open to be swept out from under him.

"Go home kid, I don't have time for this childish shit."

Kelly lurches forward a step but Marshall doesn't flinch, he's got his eyes trained on the boy. Body tense, his irritation coiled like a snake, ready to strike. "You worried? Old man." The quick glance up and down he gives this time is full of exaggerated disdain and Marshall can't help but roll his eyes and drop his hands to curl around the edges of the counter behind him.

"Of dealing with Paul's bitching about your hospital bill? Yeah, will really put a damper on my break. Of the hotel I'm staying in having shitty room service? Definitely, but of you? Of a skinny ass wannabe Marshall Mather's rip off? Far from it. You barely register on my scale of things to even acknowledge Kelly." 

The comment hits a soft spot because suddenly the blonde is gritting his teeth, hands dropping to ball up in fists at his side. "Registered enough for you to dedicate a whole song to me." The look he wears after making the comment is almost smug and Marshall just rolls his shoulders in response.

It was true, Kelly did register more than he let on. From the moment their record label signed the little shit Marshall's attention had been caught. Bleach blonde hair, earrings, goofy persona, it all reeked of fan boy. Yet another white boy trying to be the next Eminem, Kelly however was different. Instead of trying to copy his flow or raunchy style he just stole the look and then pushed his own work as hard as he could. It was interesting to peek at the rappers budding career every now and again, Marshall had to appreciate his dedication to staying true to his vision and style. Most of the upcoming rappers they signed fell into same old boring auto tuned mumble speak, catchy hooks and a beat so the masses could easily catch on mattering more than actual content. 

Until the Hailie comment Marshall had actually had some hope for the kid, he had a lot to improve but at least he wasn't singing about side chicks and lean exclusively. Those rappers were the ones he couldn't stand. It was Kelly's attitude and disrespect that pissed Marshall off more than anything, that got him moved directly to his shit list.

Not that he himself hadn't been a hellion and total douchebag at time when he was first up and coming. That was practically expected, sudden fame and money always makes people go a little wild. Once it loses its flashy new appeal they settle down. But Kelly had disrespected him directly, commented on his daughter while spewing about his love and admiration for him in practically the same breath. Dropping him down from some awestruck fan in Marshall's eyes to a wannabe, just a stupid kid who wanted the Eminem look and attention but not the actual respect from his so called idol. It was all a game of novelty, some marketing scheme probably cooked up by the label itself. They could deny it all the wanted but he didn't care to believe them.

From that point on he worked to separate them as much as he could, to keep his own image safe. Of course when he dropped his Kamikaze album he couldn't help himself, just had to put his thoughts out there. Kelly's response wasn't expected, but before he listened to it it actually had him a bit excited. Got his blood pumping thinking he might finally get to have a proper rap battle. Instead he got what was the equivalent of a bittersweet love letter, written by an ex who couldn't bring themselves to say anything bad about him except for minor petty things. His beard, age, and just overall whining about being cut off.

Still, he would give a few props to the kid for his flow and managing a catchy tune. It was smart, utilizing a mixture of the current mainstream formula and his disses to win over critics and public opinion. Just an overall shame how much he held back, what kind of fool is going to pull punches against a god?

"Don't flatter yourself," Marshall sneered up at Kelly, finally pushing himself up off the counter. Every two steps he took spooked one back from the other male. For all Kelly's bravado the kid sure looked nervous, eyes going just the tiniest bit wider. "That diss could easily be tweaked to be about any one of the million other wannabe rappers I have to put up with day to day. The only difference between you and them is that they don't go out of their way to dress up like some pretty boy desperate for attention."

Kelly's back hits the couch and his feet stumble, realization dawning on his face like he hadn't even noticed he was backing up. The look of surprise lasts only for a minute before its replaced by something darker, and Marshall sees his fist pulling back for a wide swing. The kids form is just as bad as it was months prior, leaving him open for the older rapper to quickly shoot a fist forward and into his nose. Hard enough to knock him back and tumbling over the cushions, but not hard enough to make a sickening crack of broken bone. 

Marshall doesn't let him fall, his other hand shooting out to catch the front of his hood. It slips half off, zipper flying the rest of the way open only to catch at the bottom. Kelly's fist slams into his shoulder weakly, blood already pouring from his nose. The next punch is aimed at the blondes stomach, knocking his breath out of him. The grunt Kelly let's out is deep, a hand coming up to clumsily cover his face. There's blood drops splattering onto his chest and through his fingers. The stark contrast of bright red and pale skin has Marshall hesitating for a second time, mind distracted by the long since forgotten sight. 

Kelly notices his pause and takes the chance to shoot a hand out to fist in the back of his hood, fist coming up and catching the older rapper across the jaw as he pulls forward. Long legs pushing off the ground to send them both tumbling back over the cushions and to the floor on the other side. The fall breaks his composure, a somewhat panicked shout escaping him as them roll.

The coffee table smashes into his elbows and is pushed out of the way by their combined body weight. The slam of concrete floor on his back shoots pain throughout his body, a pained groan oozing out. Kelly is on top of him, long gangly limbs tangled up in his own. His bloody face pressed into the older rappers chest, Marshall can feel his mouth moving in the shape of a curse through the fabric. His bearings are just starting to come back to him when Kelly pushes himself up, bony fingers digging into the brunettes shoulder and floor next to his head.

"F-fuck," Again the little shit is using that same breathy tone, sounding more like a porn star then someone who just got their nose almost broken. It pisses Marshall off and he doesn't hesitate on the next swing, his knuckles catching on the bottom of the blondes jaw when he jerks his head back. A pair of slim hands find their way around his throat and he's quick to dig his nails into the thin forearms attached. Kelly is barely putting any pressure and is actually looking down at him like hes lost. "This- this isn't how I expected this to go,"

The admission has Marshall stopping his attempts to buck the kid off of him and just staring up at him. Eyebrows knitting together in slight confusion, not understanding why the younger rapper is suddenly hesitating. Why he's not squeezing and using the upper hand he has to fuck him up. Kelly continues and through all the blood smeared on his face Marshall swears he can make out a flush covering pale cheeks. "I...I thought you would've had me pinned."

The comment has Marshall's own body flushing, heat rushing through his veins at the implications it draws. It's hard not to jump to conclusions with the blonde practically sitting on his lap, so he uses the moment of weakness Kelly displays to flip them. Back scraping along the edges of the coffee table and both sets of their limbs flailing in a struggle for power. But he wins, kneeing the young gunner in his stomach to stop his squirming. Then he is sitting on his chest, knees digging into the scrawny arms below him. "Yeah? Like this bitch?" The last word is practically spit out of his mouth. 

Kelly is coughing, neck stuttering beneath the palm he has gripping the side of it. His thumb is digging in, indenting the skin hard enough to bruise. Instead of renewing his struggle when he gains his senses back the blonde just stares up at him. Stupid look of awe back on his face and his lips parting, mouth curling up into a smile to flash blood stained teeth. "Y-yeah, exactly what I wanted."

Marshall is at a loss again, irritation and what threatens to be arousal swirling around inside his gut. The fist he has cocked back is frozen in the air, unsure of whether to land or not. He wasn't expecting Kelly to want him to beat him up, like some weird masochistic request. So instead of hitting him he falls back onto his words, a noise of disgust grunting out of his chest as he glares down at the blonde. "What? Are you that desperate for attention? Huh? Planning on sucking my dick too?"

Marshall can feel Kelly swallow, watches his tongue swipe over his teeth before he gives the tiniest of nods. Voice hoarse when he speaks. "Y-yeah."

Now the emotion pooling in his stomach is arousal, his own face warming at the answer. He can see how serious Kelly is, the way the younger males pupils are dilated. Finally the meaning behind both looks click into place in Marshall's mind, pieces coming together to give him the answer he had been avoiding. 

Kelly wanted to fuck him, wanted his idol to toss him around and then screw his fucking brains out on a dirty concrete floor. Like some thirsty groupie, but instead of flashing doe eyes and flirty smiles the boy was baring his teeth and flashing tatted skin. It shoots an electric thrill of excitement and desire up the older rappers spine, followed immediately by a sense of dread. There was no reason for Kelly to be coming onto him, his own gay interests a well kept secret. The number of people aware of them able to be counted on one hand. 

Either the kid was somehow aware of his proclivities or he was just that fucking stupid. Begging to be fucked by an older man with a history of 'homophobia' and anger issues, if one were to believe him to be the exact same person as his personas he puts on for his music. It was like hanging a bloody steak from your neck and climbing into the tigers den to pet the beast. Opening himself up to be mauled, torn to shreds by an apex predator. All for what? The minuscule chance it might allow him to get a stroke or two in?

It pissed Marshall off to no end, anger mixing with his earlier arousal. Pissed him off because until Kelly had opened his stupid little mouth months earlier he hadn't realized just how hungry he was. Looking down at the pathetic brat now made him feel starved. Instead of acting on the urge to just give the little shit what he wanted, rip off those skinny jeans and fuck him into the concrete floor until his back and knees were blood. Instead he pulled back. Palms digging into the blondes chest as he pushed himself up and climbed off of him.

He ignored the way blue eyes followed after him, face scrunching up in confusion. "Get out." He was crossing the room, gaze locked onto his water bottle. Anything to focus on that wasn't the blonde twink behind him. It had to be a trap, a plan to trick him into outing himself and give the younger rapper an upper hand in their feud. The opportunity for blackmail. 

"Wait I-"

"Unless you want me to fully break your nose Kelly, I'd recommend you get the fuck out of my sight." His hands were threatening to shake as he picked up his water bottle and tried to quench the sudden thirst he was feeling. Marshall felt like he was walking on a tight rope, so many different ways he could react and give himself away. Couldn't get angry and explode, then it would just look like hes overcompensating. Can't try to laugh the offer off, then he might just be nervous and avoiding it. His best option was to remain neutral, let just enough of his anger seep into his tone to convey how serious his words were.

The blonde cursed and Marshall heard him kick the table, not allowing himself to look into the mirrors reflection. Instead he pulled out his phone and scrolled mindlessly through an app. "Fucking stupid," Kelly was grumbling behind him, footsteps approaching and forcing the brunette to shoot a glance up. Marshall slipped his phone away and balled his fist up, ready to deck the tall bastard if he was thinking about starting another fight.

Instead Kelly grabbed him by the shoulder and used what strength he had to turn him, despite having more than enough time to swing Marshall allowed it. His curiosity outweighing his reason in the moment. The outcome was a pair of blood tinged lips crashing into his own, Kelly's long fingers cupping his jaw to bring their faces together. It wasn't some sweet first kiss like you see in the movies, it was a rough drag of lips against lips. The older rappers moving with a mind of their own, his previously balled up fist burying itself in short blonde locks.

Kelly stepped even closer forcing his neck to arch back and the heat of their bodies waking him from his senses. A grunt escaping him as he broke them apart, the hand in the younger rappers hair ripping his head back. Hard enough he could feel several strands rip free of his scalp and force a pained sound from the blondes now barred throat. A hand was shoving itself into his jean pocket and Marshall was quick to grab the wrist of it tight enough to feel the bones shift.

"I told you to get the fuck out." The temptation to bury his teeth into the neck before him was strong. So strong Marshall had to lean back arms out stretching to hold the young gunner as far away as he could. He could taste blood on his lips, tongue swiping out over the metallic liquid while Kelly couldn't see.

"Hnghh," The blonde was groaning in pain, the hand buried in Marshall's shoulder digging its nails in. "Okay, okay!"

The brunette held him there for another minute before letting go and shoving him back in one fluid motion. Shaking off the few strands of hair that clung to his fingers. "Good. Now go." He hated how fast his heart was beating inside his chest, how his body was drawn to the other man's. Every core of his being was shouting to just take, take, take.

Kelly alternated between rubbing the back of his head and his wrist, his face was flushed and his lip was caught between his teeth. A nervous demeanor suddenly overtaking the bottle blonde. Marshall took notice of how his feet shuffled in place, and how his knuckles came up to brush over his lips. The kid was acting like some school girl who just had her first kiss stolen, not like the aggressive little twat that had just stolen one. "This...this really isn't going how I planned…"

Bright blue eyes glanced up to hesitantly meet his own and Marshall physically cringed. Kelly was confusing the hell out of him, mood shifting worse than a girl on her period. The only part of him that was sure of anything seemed to be his dick, with how hard it was straining in his jeans it sure seemed confident in its interest. 

Judging by the soft gasp and the way those stupidly bright eyes darted down Marshall knew Kelly had noticed it as well. Pink lips parted but the brunette wasn't going to listen to anymore of the shit that spewed out of them. So he pushed off the counter once more, a thrill shooting up his spine when he saw Kelly flinch and stumble back a step. As soon as he was in reaching distance he snatched up the hood of Kelly's jacket, yanking the taller rapper forward and spinning him around to start marching him towards the door. "I don't give two fucks what you had planned, you show up again and I will put you in the fucking hospital. Understand?"

"But-"

"No but's," Marshall shoved him out into the hall, like a child being tossed out the door on a summer day by their parents. Desperate for some alone time. "Stay the hell away from me."

The younger rapper actually had the nerve to glare back at him like a petulant child. Which with how Marshall seemed to be scolding him it was almost fitting. The slam of the door in his face and twist of the lock echoing in the small room. The older rapper barely had a chance to relax, body tense as he collapsed onto the couch. The disastrous state of the room not allowing him to drag his thoughts away from the blonde.

The crooked coffee table draggef him back to Kelly's desperate sounding "Y-Yeah-" Mind running wild with the image of the cocky rapper's pink mouth stretched around his dick. Pale blue eyes filling with tears as he choked, body pinned beneath him as he fucked down into his tight throat. 

It was vivid enough to have Marshall rubbing a hand over his eyes and another ghosting over the outline of his cock. There was a low simmering feeling of regret pooling within him, crying that he should have taken the chance to dominant the blonde when it was offered. How unlikely another tempting situation would be to present itself.

For the first time in a long while Marshall actually wanted to drink, a long sigh slipping from his chest as he palmed his erection. The desire wouldn't be hard to follow through on, it would take just one text and within minutes he could have a cold beer. Shot of whiskey, fruity drink, hell probably even a jello shot. 

The temptation to do it was strong, already the fingers that had been rubbing across the front of his jeans were dancing over the lock screen of his phone. A few quick swipes and taps and he could be washing away the memories of Kelly's offer in liquid fire.

Instead Marshall dropped the cellphone onto the cushions next to him and ran his hand through his short hair. Shoving the opposite hand deep into his pocket, fingers instead now dancing over his sobriety coin. Tracing the ridges and outlines of each letter, just the feeling of it enough to settle his nerves some.

Marshall is running his fingers over the back of it when he feels and hears an unfamiliar crinkle of paper. Eyes shooting open and darting down to his lap to look at the foreign object as he pulls it out.

It's a small folded up piece of paper, one he doesn't remember putting there himself. The horrifically uneven folds also hinting at its creation not being his own. Opening it up Marshall can't help but squint down at the number scribbled within, the words 'text me' written in swoopy letters. Everything about it screams that it was written fast.

The rapper continues glaring down at it, even contemplates typing it into his phone before the memory of Kelly stuffing his skinny fingers into his jeans comes back to mind. Realization hitting him like a sack of bricks. 

The little twink had slipped him his phone number, invited him to contact him. Access to use him as a booty call if wanted. The slip of paper feels as tempting as an uncapped bottle of vodka in his hands. Burning his fingers and tugging at the desire deep in the pit of his stomach.

Marshall wants to trail his fingers over his token again, hope it will provide the same relief from temptation but his other hand is picking up the discarded cellphone on its own. Thumb sliding across the lock screen after inputting his pin, tapping the icon for his messages and blindly typing in the number on the contact line. Muscle memory matching each number to its spot on the screen.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again no editing here! So sorry ahead of time for any horrific mistakes you find!  
> Hope you all have a Merry Christmas! Happy Hannukah! Just happy holidays in general!

< Stay away from my shows Cornball>

The text was simple, straight to the point. Marshall had typed and erased at least a dozen others in the day that had passed, varying from similar warnings and threats to downright flirtatious inquiries. The stable sane side of him thankfully overpowering any horny desires.

Kelly's actions and admissions conflicted eachother, he had no idea how the kid could go from wanting to fist fight him to wanting to suck his dick so quickly. It made zero sense to the older rapper and set all of his warning alarms off. Over the years he had more than his fair share of set ups, suspiciously interested guys coming up to him in bars or after a show. Trying to lure him into outing himself.

He’d be damned if he allowed himself to fall into such an obvious honey trap. Kelly must’ve decided that since he couldn’t beat the older rapper through talent alone blackmailing him would be a better idea. It almost has Marshall itching to take the brat up on his offer, corner him in some seedy motel room and just pin him down. Show him exactly how fucking queer he was. Let the blonde try running his mouth after it’s been fucked raw, and he has snapped a few pictures of his own. 

Really there were so many ways he could turn Kelly’s scheme around on him. At least 13, that Marshall had come up with in the last 4 hours. The rapper was beyond frustrated, emotionally, physically, sexually, the twinks confrontation and offer were weighing heavily on his mind. Forcing the man to admit it may have been a few months too many since he last indulged himself, and by a few months he meant close to a year.

While younger higher him had been a damn near sex addict as he matured and more importantly got sober his seemingly endless sex drive dropped down considerably. Turned out when he was actually aware of who he was fucking and fully concious throughout the act he got a lot more picky with his partners. His dick got picky too, not wanting to stand at attention for just any slutty groupie, suddenly easily spread legs and an open mouth just weren’t enough. 

Screwing in general just became an overall hassle. Too many annoying factors to juggle, attraction, access, privacy, confidentiality for fucks sake, Marshall hated seeing his love life splashed across some goddamn tabloid or a chick he let suck him off after a show proclaiming herself to be his newest ‘girl’ and probably the father to her child down the road. Sober Marshall all but quit having sex with women, he had always found guys easier to be attracted to anyway so it wasn't that big of a deal. Coincidentally, they also were a lot more fitting for his needs. Just as eager as he was to have a quick nameless fuck, rarely ever begging him to stay and cuddle or for an autograph.

But even that had to come to an end, the more famous he became the harder it was getting to be discreet. Paul was getting tired of fielding inquiries and paying off any not so quiet hookups he did manage to follow through on. His own kids liked to claim his sexuality was the worst kept secret in the industry but Marshall was sure that was only their perception because they already knew about it. While Hailey had confessed she had her suspicions both Whitney and Alaina had been completely caught off guard. 

The bottom line was Marshall hadn’t been going out of his way to end his current dry spell. Nor should there have been any reason for Machine Gun Kelly of all people to be aware of his inclinations. The two facts mixed together and left him severely stressed and pent up. It was the perfect storm to culiminate into a need for some angry sex, which he of course didn’t want to act out on now that his alarms had been tripped. Every profile he scrolled through on grindr screamed set up now, carried the risk of being some crone paid off to entrap him. God knows the payday to whoever could snap a photo of him with a guy would be worth triple whatever someone spent. Surely wouldn’t be the first time a rival tried.

A strong vibration from his pocket drew Marshall from his thoughts, glancing up at the clock the rapper realized he had spent a good half hour caught up in his own melodrama. Sighing he dragged a hand up over his short cropped hair, pushing back the hood he had anxiously tugged up. Slapping his hand irritably down onto his thigh afterwards Marshall kicked out a foot and wrestled his phone from his pocket. Body relaxing back into the couch cushions as he unlocked it, a text notification the cause.

Swiping the pesky white popup open Marshall nearly dropped his phone, color threatening to rise on his cheeks when the message loaded. A very flirtatious photo and text taking over his screen.

< Just ur shows??>

Kelly was biting his lip and playing with his hair, eyes focused off to the side of the screen. Imitating nervousness. But the man was anything but nervous if he was seriously going out of his way to respond so desperately. Still, Marshall’s eyes couldn’t be dragged away, scanning over the sharp edges of the boys jaw, the purple and pink flush of a bruise from their encounter, the way his blonde hair fanned out against deep red pillows. The contrast between his pale skin and the sheets beneath his frame was striking. Even the stupid dangly ass earring got a look over for longer than necessary.

“Fuck,”

Marshall’s finger had instinctively swiped up on the picture, horny brain hopeful it could scroll down and trail over even more exposed flesh. Of course it didn’t, and his fingers tightened around the phone. He felt pathetic for the way his cock started to fill out beneath his sweats.

“Fucking fuck.” His hand was back to brushing over his hair, fingernails digging into his scalp where he clutched. Pulling helplessly at the short strands, wanting to rip some out in frustration. A habit he hadn’t returned to in years. 

Marshall’s thumb was twirling around on his phone screen, mind blank. It was rare for him to find himself speechless, but it wasn’t everyday he had a lanky twink rapper thirsting after him either. Groaning the brunette swiped his hand down his face and glared at the photo once more.

He shouldn’t respond, the smart thing to do, what Paul would more than likely order him to do if informed of everything going on would be to block the number. Delete the message and just go back to ignoring the other rappers existence.

< Lose my number fag >

But of course he doesn’t. Instead the childish hyper defensive side of him chooses to make an appearance, fingers rapidly tapping the screen before he can change his mind. As soon as the message is sent his leg begins to bounce. Regret pooling in his stomach, the ever present and critical voice in the back of his own head telling him what a good job he's doing at coming off homophobic and not at all like hes compensating. 

In the minutes leading up to a reply Marshall opens and closes the contact page for the number at least 5 times. Not to enter a name in but to simply scroll down and hover his thumb over the block button. Never following through with the press, knowing it would make him the coward. The phone lightly vibrates in his hand, so suddenly he nearly drops it. Just narrowly missing actually selecting the option. 

< U texted me first >

The response is juvenile, yet it gets Marshall’s heartbeat rising. Body leaning forward, curling lightly over itself as he firmly plants his feet on the floor. Knuckle coming up to rest against his lip as he rereads over the horribly simple text. It’s a challenge, plain as day. Kelly is playing chicken hoping to make Marshall blink. And he would be damned if he backed down to some white toothpick prick.

His thumbs start tapping away almost instantly, hesitating over the send button before backpedaling. Cycling through multiple attempts at a reply before just settling with a weak sounding.

< To warn you to stay the hell out of my dressing room Princess >

After a few seconds he added,

< don't go feeling special now >

The texts did little to calm his own nerves, nor did they feel like a win in whatever game he was currently playing. If anything Marshall almost felt like he was playing right into the younger rappers hand. The few minutes that passed with no reply gave him more than enough time to regret even continuing to text the brat. Blocking the number immediately was the correct choice, even if it might come off as cowardly. Shoving the phone back into his pocket the older male pushed off the couch, crossing his hotel room to go root in the minifridge. Fingers closing around a cold bottle of water, tiny bottles of alcohol lining the bottom shelf catching his eye momentarily.

Again the blondes interference in his life was testing his sobriety. It pissed him off enough to make him slam the small door closed. Drinks inside clinking noisily as the appliance shook. He had just unscrewed the cap and began drinking when his phone went off again. Vibrations tickling his leg, causing a trickle of water to escape the corner of his mouth. 

The plastic bottle crinkled in his hand as he lowered it, teeth momentarily catching his own lip as he sucked away the moisture. The eagerness he felt to see what Kelly had replied was mind boggling. “One fucking pretty little twink offers to suck your dick and you’re 15 again.” He was cursing at himself, verbalizing the self judgement going through his own head. 

The temptation was palpable, had his fingers itching to jerk back down into his pocket and pull out the phone. Instead he raised the water bottle and pressed its plastic body into his forehead, relishing the comfort the cold temperature gave to his flushed skin. Slipping his eyes closed only allowed his mind to wander however, Kelly’s stupid bruised face coming to mind. How the man was probably still lying on those ridiculous wine colored sheets and typing away into his own phone. Long body stretched out across, pale skin nearly glowing where it touched the stark red.

The image had him groaning again, eyes snapping back open to glare at his own plain white hotel issued sheets. As if he could threaten the room into changing, as if he wanted it to change. Kelly wasn’t his usual type in the first place, Marshall hated being the smallest one in a room. While he could make exceptions in his bedroom, 8 inches of difference sounded like a complete hassle.

A second vibration went off and had Marshall's attention snapping back down to his own sweats. Fingers already wrapping around the cellphone within, pulling it out and unlocking. 

< didnt seem like you wanted me gone when you had your fist tight in my hair >

There was another picture, Marshall didn't even bother hesitating before clicking on it to enlarge it. Air forcefully leaving his nose when it loaded. Kelly was staring directly at the camera this time, own hand dragging through his hair in a tight grip. Head tipped back surrounded by a red sea, lips parted and pink tongue peeking out. The man looked like he was in the middle of a moan 

Again Marshall's gaze lingered, he had to physically hit the back button on the screen to stop staring.

Below the picture there was yet another message. 

< bet its frustrating knowing your princess is in another castle huh? >

It was like the blonde could read his thoughts, knew about the daggers he was burning into the crisp white plush of his own bed. This time the older man didn't respond, just huffed and tossed his phone across the room. Watching it land and bounce around on said bed with a dull thud. He wanted to rip open the mini fridge and see just how many of those tiny bottles he needed to down before Kelly's pink tongue was off his mind.

Thankfully he wasn't so pathetic as to throw away a near decade of sobriety over some scrawny twink. Instead the rapper threw himself into his composing, pulling out a pen and paper to sit back down on the couch with and just write. If a lot of the beginning ideas he came up with involved pretty blondes and venomous sneaky snakes he paid it no mind.

The writing served as a good distraction, especially with his phone far away where the temptation of feeling or even hearing a vibration couldn't reach him. Marshall didn't bother checking his phone until he was climbing into bed, hours had passed yet there was still a sick buzz of anticipation over what else the younger rapper could have sent him. He wondered how desperate Kelly might get to try and lure him in, how being ignored would affect his tactics.

Burying himself in his work had given him the chance to remind himself all the reasons why Kelly's feigned interest was dangerous. Anger bubbling up in the place of desire once the lure of those photos was taken away. The vindictive side of himself wanted to poke back, see how far he could push the blonde to go to try and trick him. With how freely he seemed to snap selfies the rapper mused he could probably trick the boy into sending a nude or two. Just one would be more than sufficient as black mail to get the younger male to quit this game. But Marshall always liked to think of himself as an overachiever.

Instead of finding a cluster of increasingly pathetic texts like he might receive after ignoring a hookup Marshall instead found the last snarky comment about 'being in another castle' staring back almost mockingly. The sight of it actually had him checking his reception, flipping airplane mode on and off like his daughter had shown him once before. No texts came through, the message sat alone. 

Disappointment bubbled up briefly before being shoved back down and smothered by forced relief. If Marshall plugged his phone into the charger with more force than necessary he paid it no mind, nor did he the way he punched his pillow into comfortable submission.

It would be another week before his phone lit up with the familiar unsaved number. Blue eyes doing a double take when he glanced down at it, confusion quickly being replaced by a familiar heat low in his stomach. Royce's gruff, "You got a new bitch?" Drags his attention away from the teasing notification. Eyelids rapidly blinking for a moment as the brunette schools his expression back into something neutral before looking over to his close friend.

"What?"

The larger man motions to his phone, where it rests on the edge of the soundboard. Marshall's pale fingers locked around it. "Usually you only make that face if it's some hookup messaging you. Didn't realize you were back in the field." Dark shoulders are rolling in a casual shrug as Royce turns back to his computer, focus returning to the track he had been working on moments before.

Marshall can't help but fluster for a moment, mask slipping as a denial spills out. "W-what? No-" swallowing he releases the phone like it's a burning coal. Dragging his hand up over his buzzed hair anxiously instead. Voice stabilizing and face cooling before he continues."It's nothing like that. Just some annoying asshole blowing my phone up."

Dark eyes glance back over at him, expression serious. They're searching his face for sincerity and the pale rapper doesn't back down from the challenge. Meeting them dead on until Royce is nodding and returning once again to the work at hand. "Yeah? Sounds like a pain in the ass. Just block their number man," a beat passes before he chuckles. "Who the fuck would even be stupid enough to pester you?"

"No one worth my breath mentioning," Marshall sighs, shaking his own head and swiveling his chair back around to face the board.. Shooting the phone an irritated look before picking up his own set of headphones. "I'll block em after we finish this track, wasting enough time worrying over it right now as it is."

There was no way he was going to tell Royce it was Kelly, he hadn't even mentioned the texting to Paul. Who of course felt the need to ask how their talk had gone over only a few days prior, right when Marshall was succeeding at brushing the whole encounter off as some twilight zone style event. The rapper barely managed to give a noncommittal shrug in response, not sure how much of the flirtatious encounter he wanted to reveal. Paul had just taken that as the answer he needed however, patting him on the shoulder and thanking him for listening to him for once. Not escalating it into a PR nightmare for him to solve.

Which he hadn't, not until he foolishly texted the brat and opened up a line of contact. The smooch and blow job offer were forgettable, neither he nor Kelly ever had to reveal their occurence. The risk of some media outlet finding out was nigh impossible without Kelly himself confessing to its but even then, it would be some attention hungry wannabe gangsters word against his own. And more damaging to the others reputation.

The PR nightmare Paul wanted to avoid didn't actually exist until he gave the blonde a verifiable source. Text messages could easily be leaked, Marshall was lucky that even in his spontaneous replies he hadn't said anything trouble worthy. Sure the fag comment could start a whole load of shit but he was already getting that from the diss towards Tyler the Creator on Kamikaze so it was nothing Paul couldn't handle.

Elton and others would jump to his defense, cover his closeted ass. Elton especially, the man would probably send him another long heartfelt message about how 'maybe it was time' or how 'healing' revealing his inclinations to the world might be. The people he cared about and trusted most already knew so Marshall saw no reason why the fucking media needed to know who he was screwing. It wasn't like he had a boyfriend, some guy he was bringing home to play house and second daddy to his children.

So Marshall didn't even bother telling anyone about the flirty texts or pictures. Deciding to keep it as his own dirty little secret, a problem to handle on his own. One until that moment in the studio he had assumed solved itself. Kelly hadn't texted, from his own quiet inquiries and snooping he found no evidence the rapper had tried to make anymore surprise appearances either. Marshall had assumed Kelly realized his scheme was already spotted and had given up. 

The knowledge alone had him distracted, mind wandering. Was it an apology? The young gunner accepting he had no chance, that his ruse wouldn’t work? Or was it another flirty message? Maybe a provocative picture, meant to tempt him back into the conversation. Get him to slip up and provide some incidental comment that could be taken and blown up out of proportion.

It had his fingers itching, lightly tapping against the soundboard. Idly adjusting the treble and bass on the track playing in his ears. He can hardly focus with the way a green light blinks on his phone, signaling a notification. His heart almost seems synced up to it. Groaning in frustration the brunette runs a hand over his head, palm stopping at his temple to rub while the other reaches out and flips the phone over onto its face. Blocking the annoying light from view. 

“You feeling alright man?”Royce’s deep voice reaches him even through the big headphones covering his ears. Spurs him into taking them off in a huff and rubbing both palms into the back of his eyelids until he’s seeing stars. Of course he isn’t feeling alright, who the hell could be alright when there’s some annoying honeytrap bothering them, trying to lure them in and expose their private life. 

“Yeah,”The lie came out on an unconvincing sigh, Marshall’s head slumping back against the back of the chair. Body sinking down until his one leg was fully outstretched under the desk, hoodie rising up where it is pinned between his back and seat behind him. “Just need a few minutes...didn’t get a whole lotta sleep last night.”

That part was true, not because he was sick but because his dick had decided it needed his undivided attention. The usual trashy porn route not working and his refusal to use his own imagination lest it wander back to wine red sheets and pale pink lips meant he hadn’t been able to handle it. Resorting to taking a cold shower like some horny teen.

"Marsh," Royce was sighing, tossing his own pair of headphones onto the table he was sitting at. The creak of his chair alerting Marshall to how he must have turned to face him. Forcing him to reluctantly turn his own chair a few degrees. Eyes darting up to meet the the other rappers own. "Let's call it quits today then, Mouse has been on my ass about coming home early anyway." 

Marshall hates how relieved he feels to hear the other man suggest it, if anything he should be dreading Royce's departure. When he has no more excuses not to flip his stupid phone over and see where the game is heading next. "Nah, man, I'm good. Really. I'll be fine-"

"Its cool. It's cool. You'd be doing me a solid, you know my wife, how things have been since- since all that shit that went down. Like, I gotta be wooing her ass anyway I can brotha," a crooked smile was breaking out across his friends face. "Mouse was bout to kick my ass last month when we ran late, talking all about who I was with, and what took so long. Had that damn fire in her eyes that scares the shit outta me."

Snorting Marshall nodded, “That why she called me?” Remembering Royce’s wife phoning him up late one night, asking how their day at the studio went. It was phrased like a regular old check in between friends but the older rapper had been suspicious. “Thought it was weird.” Royce was groaning at his revelation.

“She called? Fuck, damn woman I swear, she aint-”Sighing the other rapper shook his head and ran both hands stresfully over his head. “Shit, well...thanks for answering. Probably why she dropped it.”

Marshall was sympathetic to Royce but not by much, his friend had dug his own grave. All the partying and cheating had taken a real toll on their relationship. Hurt his wife deeply, the fact they were still together after it all was a miracle. While his friend may have sobered up and deeply regretted his actions he still harboured that clueless belief that once he had repented and was forgiven everything would go back to how it used to be.

Royce was lucky, his wife and him had met all the way back in highschool. She stuck by his side through it all, from when they were broke barely getting by, struggling to sell his music. Just chasing a dream that seemed unreachable, until it was. And even then through riches, fame, scandals, and finally the infidelity. She never strayed. Was loyal by his side even when hurt. Royce didn't know what being cheated on did to a woman, hell what it did to a man. The things Kim put him through changed him for the rest of his life. 

They were wounds that seemed like they would never heal, even long after he and her had split permanently the ghost of her actions followed every relationship. Loomed over his head like a creature in wait, hypervigilant for any tiny slip up, something it could grasp within her long claws and pluck up. Hold over his head until it drove him mad, made him snap and jump. Jump to conclusions over and over until he had some weak piece clasped within his own hands. So he could obsess over and chew at it himself. Leading to an explosive end.

"She ain't crazy man," Marshall was sighing again, shooting Royce a serious look. "Just hurt." 

Royce's shoulders softened, head hanging for a moment before he climbed to his feet. "Yeah….yeah I know man." Another sigh followed by a chuckle. "Like I said. I should get back, maybe get her some flowers or shit on the way home."

"Oof, nah, not that dawg." Marshall couldn't help but visibly wince. "That- that'll have her even more worried. Just get your ass home.” He had made a similar mistake with Kim after a petty revenge fuck, after you’ve slept around on a woman every spontaneous gesture from that moment forward comes under suspicion. Are you bringing her flowers because you love her and wanted to see her smile? Or is it because you went out with your little side piece again and the guilt was eating away at you. Forcing you to put on some sweet loving husband act, convince yourself that you’re not all that bad. After all, you got the broad some pretty little weeds right?

Royce squinted at him for one thoughtful moment before nodding, retrieving his own phone from deep within a jacket pocket and texting away. The sight of it was enough to drag Marshall back from his somber mood, depressing thoughts of Kim being shoved back deep away. Kelly’s mystery message jerking back to the forefront of his mind, head turning to glance over at his own phone.

“Aight, Imma head out.” Royce was strolling over to the studio door, keys in hand as he gave a subtle wave over his shoulder. “Get some fucking sleep Slim, the track’ll sort itself out in time.”

Marshall made a noncommittal noise in agreement and waved his friend off, chair swiveling back around to face his soundboard. Fingers once again itching to reach out and snatch up the phone. Instead he picked up the headphones and pulled them on once again, resuming his previous editing. It was frustrating but he was intent on not letting the blonde rapper interfere with his work. 

At least that was his plan, until his phone vibrates quietly against the desk. Rattling and shaking as it inched around, startling Marshall into hiking the bass all the way up. Yanking off his headphones the rapper couldn’t help but huff, dropping them onto the laptop keyboard with a clatter. Heart racing as he snatched the device up, he felt ridiculous. Avoiding his own cellphone for christs sakes. The easiest thing to do would be to just open the texts and see what the brat had to say. Rip it off like a bandaid.

What had originally been just one had quickly turned into several messages. The blonde evidently getting impatient by his lack of response. Of course there were pictures as well but the rapper scrolled up past them, to read the messages in order.

< so that it?>  
< just gonna ignore me??>  
< really gonna ignore this mouth for a whole week?>

The last text was accompanied with a picture, one that had Marshall's breath catching and heat quickly traveling south. The blonde was lieing on those wine colored sheets again, this time on his back. Head tilted back, eyes staring into the camera with blown out pupils while he dragged a patriotic colored icepop down his flat tongue. With the way it was angled Marshall could just barely see the lean tatted skin of the mans chest, perky nipples peeking over the horizon. 

Several more texts followed, broken up by increasingly shorter intervals.

< pop only lasts so long>  
< u shy?>  
< cant say I dont bite>

The next picture had him running a hand over his hair, cock twitching beneath the denim of his jeans. Kelly was on his stomach, one hand threaded through the front of his hair pushing it up. The other fisted around what Marshall assumed was the popsicle stick, the pop was completely out of sight. Only the bright blue bottom peeking out from between the boys red lips and the top of his fist. Cheeks hollowed out while he gave puppy dog eyes up at the camera. 

There was no subtlety to the image, no vague possibility of it representing anything but the blonde choking down on an imaginary cock. Marshall's mind was quick to replace the sugary treat with his own, the fingers pushing back Kelly's hair stemming from his own hand. He wondered if he could bury himself that far down the blondes throat, hold his head there while he gagged and pleaded for mercy with big blue eyes.

"Fuckin hell." Marshall couldn't believe the kid was willing to go this far. A picture like this getting out would quickly go viral, leave him the butt of every cock sucking joke for years. He couldn't figure out if the boy was that stupid or just desperate.

A hiss escaped his lips as he adjusted himself beneath his jeans, the constricting denim only speeding up the way his cock was steadily hardening. The sight of shiny drool and colored juice leaking down the boys chin helped as well, brought to mind other things dripping out of the younger rappers mouth.

< cmon Em>

The final text has him sighing, head dropping back against the rest. There were so many responses running through his head that he could type out. A good deal of them flirtatious, asking Kelly if he likes having something shoved down his throat, detailing his own fantasy. Things he might write out to some anonymous grindr hookup, to set the mood and get them all worked up for when they finally met. Dirty talk came to Marshall as easy as rapping. He loved storytelling and the affect his words could have on others.

Now wasn't the time for that however, Kelly wasn't some future hookup. Marshall had to be careful with how he responded, really he shouldn't respond at all. The fact he was even considering it was ridiculous. There was no good outcome in sight, beside maybe getting his rocks off to the younger rappers selfies.

Groaning Marshall drags a hand down his face. Eyes locked on the screen, hesitating. The urge to just block the man's number is coming back, but the stubborn side of him won't allow it. After a moment he decides to just bite the bullet and reply. A low buzz rumbling through his body as he hits send.

< didnt anyone ever teach you not to eat in bed?>

The text is vanilla enough it wouldn't be worth exposing. Allowing him to toe the line between flirtation and disinterest. Kelly's interpretation and how he chooses to respond is his own problem.

Licking his lips Marshall locks the phone and sets it back down on the desk, fingers reaching out to wrap around the neck of a coke bottle. Free hand coming down to squeeze and adjust his half hard dick while he sucks down a decent amount of the bottle. He fumbles with the cap when he closes it, Kelly's flirtatious offers weighing heavy on his mind. For a moment he allows himself to consider the possibility it isn't some set up, that the blonde does just desperately want him. 

Marshall can't help but wonder what it is about himself Kelly is so hungry for. Is it just simple fan worship? The blonde being some star struck stan who would do anything for a second of his gods attention. Or is it something else? His looks? He has gotten his faith share of compliments over the years, from the media and partners alike. Even before he switched teams men always seemed to show an interest in him, there were more times than he could count growing up where he felt like he had close calls. DeShaun's presence at his side deterring any wandering hands or aggressive come ons.

But backstage Kelly hadn't come onto him like he wanted to fuck him, quite contrary he had all but stated he wanted to be fucked. Even now, the slutty pictures and texts screamed 'dominate me'. It had Marshall's interest piqued from the moment he made that stupid awestruck face.

His phone began vibrating, cock twitching instinctively in response. Except when Marshall looked down he realized it was still going, continuing to dance across the desk top in a rhythmic routine. Picking it up he couldn't help but freeze, blood running hot throughout his body when he saw the incoming call screen. Kelly's number a stark white against the black.

The rapper wasn't sure what to do, momentarily panicking. Pushing back from the desk and nearly toppling his chair over when he shot to his feet. Why the hell was the blonde calling? What part of his response implied a call might be nice or necessary? The phone continued ringing silently in his hand, green answer button glowing while he stressfully gripped his own short hair.

Time was running out and Marshall still had no clue what to say or do, but his thumb seemed to have made up its own mind. Quickly sliding across the button and picking up the call before it ended.

Pulling it up to his ear the rapper was met with muffled music. His own breath caught in his throat while he waited, a minute passing with no words or sounds other than the soft bump of some track. It had him wondering if perhaps the call was a misdial, if Kelly was even aware his phone had dialed itself. But then there was a faint curse, the sounds of the phone being moved around awkwardly before a breathless voice finally broke the silence. Quiet and sounding uncertain. 

“I….I didn’t think you would actually answer…”

There it was again, that same soft lost sounding tone that blonde had used when he found himself ontop of the older rapper. It had a fire burning through Marshall’s veins, making his fingers tighten around the phone pressed hard against his own ear. Teeth digging briefly into his bottom lip before he began crossing the room to lock the studio’s door. His voice taking on an irritated tone as he spoke. “What, did ya think I’m some bitch who’s afraid to tell you off over the phone? This is preferable, saves me the time of writing out all the ways you’re a sniveling little brat.” The lock clicking into place echoed in his own ears, feet hesitating in front of the door for a moment. “I’ve seen people do a lot of different things to try and get attention but you take the cake Kelly,”

Pushing through the anxious feeling pooling in his stomach Marshall allows his anger to bubble up to the surface. Feet finally lifting and carrying him back over to a comfortable leather sofa that rested against the far wall. Shoes loudly slamming down onto the top of the coffee table in front of it as he settled in. “Acting tough and like a gangster didn’t work so what, now you’re gonna try and flaunt yourself like some cheap slut and see what that lures in? I see through your bullshit kid,” Kelly is still silent on the other side of the phone, a sharp intake of breath at the mention of the word slut being all the noise he’s made so far. “You’re playing a dangerous game here, one text and those pictures could be all over the internet. Wannabe rapper Machine Gun Kelly sexts Eminem, hm, I’m sure TMZ would come up with a better title, something more eye catching but you get my point. I could end everything for you-”

“But you won’t,” The sudden outburst has Marshall pausing, body freezing up as the younger rapper finally grows enough balls to defend himself. “Y-You won’t send them to anybody.” Kelly’s voice sounds dry, a pause before he continues while Marshall hears what sounds like liquid sloshing around distantly in a bottle. “We both know if that’s what you planned on doing they’d already be out. Wouldn’t be wasting time on the phone with me…..unless….unless you want something.”Again his voice trails off nervously. The brunette can almost imagine how Kelly pauses to lick his lips,

“Fuck you,”The curse bursts out, body simmering as the older rapper adjusts himself on the couch once more. Teeth grinding against each other while a light flush rises to his cheeks “I told you not to go feeling special beanpole, there aint anything you have that I’d want. This is just pity. You sent me a picture flashing some big puppy dog eyes and made me forget you aren’t some whiny little girl-”

“Then why not block me?” Another burst of confidence on the other end of the line, making Marshall pause again. The question is valid, has him struggling to come up with a response before Kelly continues. “You didn’t have to reply, fuck, you didn’t even have to text me in the first place. If you didn’t want to see anymore you had a whole week to just block my number.” 

Marshall is scratching nails across his scalp, pushing down his hood and just stopping to hold the back of his own neck. Kelly’s voice continues rambling on against his ear. “You didn’t because you wanted me to keep texting you, because you-"

"Because I was curious how fucking pathetic you were Kelly." Venom drips from Marshall's tone like acid, aiming to scorch it's way through the phone speaker and melt away whatever confidence the blonde has somehow developed. "I told you not to go overthinking shit, life isn't some corny movie. Just because a bunch of drugged up fame hungry sluts want to throw themselves at you every chance they get doesn't mean you're hot shit. Or fucking desirable."

Irritation is burning through Marshall's body almost as hot as the heat coiling in his lower stomach. This time when he goes to adjust himself his hand lingers, fingers wrapping around the bulge of his hard cock and squeezing. Palm rubbing down against the denim until a sharp intake of breath hisses out. The rapper tries to cover it up by continuing his rant.

"Even if I was interested in screwing some thirsty ass twink I sure as shit wouldn't choose you. I don't make it a habit to fuck sluts, nothing turns me off more than some chick who's been passed around half of Hollywood assuming I'd be interested in her sloppy 42nds." Chewing his lip Marshall squeezes the back of his neck and his bulge at the same time. "You were deepthroating that ice pop like a pro, bet you’ve spent the majority of your career on your knees Kelly.”  
Marshall paused, tongue darting out to wet his lips for a moment. The line was mostly silent, if it wasn’t for a muffled curse he would have checked to see if the younger rapper had hung up. Instead he found himself pressing the phone closer, teeth lightly digging into his lip.

"Cat got your tongue?"

Another muffled noise and it officially has Marshall's interest peaked. Cock twitching and eyes closing to better focus, he almost wants to plug his headphones. "Or are you sucking on one of those pops again?" He couldn't resist palming his cock once more. "That desperate to have something shoved down your throat?" 

"F-fuck-" This time the curse was louder, trailing off into an unmistakable groan. It sent a jolt of electricity shooting up his back, the older males breath catching in his throat. He couldn't believe his own ears, was the blonde actually getting off to the sound of his voice? Another badly muffled groan answers the question for him and this time Marshall actually does get up and reach for his headphones. Biting his lip hard enough for it to sting while he fumbles with slipping them back on over his head and plugging the cord in before falling back down onto the couch. “I don’t-”

The half hearted denial rings out in the older rapper’s ears crystal clear, as if the blonde was in the room with him. It’s got him swallowing down his own groan. Voice coming out thick, like syrup. “Don’t what? Suck cock?” He hopes the built in microphone doesn’t sound too different from how his phone had. “You could have fooled me, offered to suck mine like it was the most sensible thing in the world.” 

Now the ruffling in his ears was more defined, obviously the sound of clothes and a belt. It has his eyes fluttering closed and a hand drifting back down to squeeze his crotch. Imagination running wild with images of Kelly stretched out across wine red sheets, shoving down his pants to jerk himself off. Phone stuffed tight against his own ear.

“Sure sounds like you jerk it though,” Marshall grunts, clearing his throat before popping the button on his jeans. Heart racing in his chest at what he’s actually considering going through with. “Bet that’s all the exercise your bony little wrists get,” From how his hand was quickly disappearing down his pants to trace over the cotton fabric covering his own cock it might be the only exercise he gets in for himself today as well. “My ex wife threw harder punches than the ones you sent my way, not to mention that pitiful attempt at a flex.” Kelly’s lean chest was back at the forefront of his mind, how colorful the younger man’s marked skin was. How fragile thin hips would probably feel beneath his hands.

“I’d break you in half without even trying-” Bending him in half wouldn’t be all that bad of an idea, “You’d like that though, wouldn’t you?” This time he sighs, gives himself a firmer squeeze. Drops his head back against the cushions and wets a dry lip. Waits to see if Kelly replies or if the blonde plans on just breathing heavily in his ear and poorly covering up little sounds.

After a moment the rapper finally responds. Voice quiet, near a whisper making the headphones well worth how ridiculous he felt for putting them on. “Y-Yeah….” The admission surprises a groan out of the older male, before he can even feel it building up in his throat. Cheek’s flushing in slight embarrassment at how the line goes strangely silent. A moment passes where Marshall is mentally cursing himself phone dropping onto the couch so he can run his free hand over his face. But then Kelly is speaking again, a surge of confidence filling the younger males voice. “I-I would, like that. You….you bending me over….breaking me.”

Air is pushed out of Marshall’s nose so forcefully it’s audible, the fingers that had been hesitantly tracing over the edges of his clothed cock digging in. Gripping it tightly and properly moving over it in one slow stroke.. “Oh yeah?” Now that he’s started there’s no stopping. "How do you want me to do it? Hmm?" 

There's a confused noise ringing out in Marshall's ears, he can hear how a question is on the tip of Kelly's tongue. Breath hitching and a stuttered "H-huh?" Following.

"Break you," The brunette clarifies. Clearing his dry throat for a moment and chewing his lip to suppress another groan as he pulls himself out of his jeans. "What do you want me to do to those frail bones of yours Kelly?" 

His prodding is rewarded with a shuddered gasp, sputtering, just nonsensical verbal flailing. Like the blonde can't believe what he heard. That the famous rapper is actually joining him.

"Didn't catch that," Opening his eyes up Marshall bores a hole into the ceiling with his gaze. Working to steady his heavy breathing while simultaneously slowly jerking himself. "Don't go turning into a mumble rapper on me here."

Flustered silence continues, breathing the only thing Marshall can hear. Rolling his eyes the rapper sighs, the virgin mary act was cute the first few minutes but now that he's committing to whatever the hell it is they're doing he doesn't want to dick around. Irritation seeps into his tone, fingers tightening almost painfully around himself with how annoyed the blondes shy pause is making him. "Cmon, spill. Or else I might as well just hang up."

At that threat actual words finally begin to form. "Dont! I mean- fuck-" Kelly's voice sounds deeper than earlier, gruff but also slightly panicked. It vibrates Marshall's ear drums and has him chewing his lip raw.

"I don't have all night Kelly," Another forced sigh, this time to cover up his own pleasured sounds as he swipes his thumb over the bead of precum gathered at the head. "Can't believe I'm even giving you a minute of my time as it is."

"Look I can't just-" 

"Tik- Tok," The brunette clicks his tongue, begins counting down in rhythm with his own slow jerks. "Five...four...three-" Another curse rings out in his ears. 

"F-fuck! Alright, alright!" Kelly's voice trails off into a pathetic whine. Words tumbling out of his mouth in rapid succession, embarrassment so palpable Marshall imagines he could feel the heat from the others cheeks through the phone if he still had it held to his own ear. "I-I want you to bend me over-"

Now his eyes are slipping closed again, imagination coming alive at the blondes sudden descriptive outburst. "Fuck, just...just force my legs apart-" Kelly is climbing in pitch, matching the version in Marshall's mind. His previous fantasy of the blonde spread out on his back replaced, now instead of being swallowed in a sea of red the young gunner is in his studio. Shoved into the soundboard, bent over with his cheek pressed against the glass that separates them from the recording booth. Fingers tightly wound around bleached locks to hold him there, while he kicks his legs wide open. 

"Mmm, your- your hands-" Kelly hums for a moment, like he's deep in thought. Concocting his own fantasy on the other end of the phone while he plays with his own dick. "They'd be gripping my hips-" 

"I'd wanna have a fist in that awful fucking dye job of yours, bet you like having your hair pulled like some bitch-" Marshall can't help but cut in, ever the control freak. Wanting to steer the conversation to match his own idea.

"Y-you would?" Kelly doesn't bother hiding the moan this time. An almost disappointed noise escaping the younger rapper between heavy breaths. "Fuck- I'd wanna feel your nails on my skin though, just-just digging in so hard they-" Another deep groan and now Marshall can actually hear the sound of skin slapping against skin. "Fuck- that-that they'd leave marks."

It's Marshall's turn to hum approvingly, he could do both. Yank the boys head back with one hand and dig his fingers into a bony hip with the other. Afterall he seems like a squirmy little fuck, would probably need to be held still. "Want me to mark your pretty skin up?" He's gotta lick his lips again, the hand not steadily jerking himself coming up to rake over his short hair. "I would grind my fingers down to the fucking bone, you'd still be feeling them for days afterwards Kelly."

"Y-yeah?" It sounds like Kelly nearly chokes on his own tongue, breath hitching. "Oh fuck-" Another gasp. "Fuck I'd want- need you to- Shit-ah! Just fucking h-hold me down and-guh-grind up against me."

Marshall can't help but thrust uselessly up into his own fist, groaning at the thought of doing just that to the younger male. Just pressing him into the glass and drawing a million different noises out of him. Cock dragging over the curve of the boys ass, hell he would probably grind against it so hard right now if they were together the friction would burn right through any fabric separating them. "Mmm. I'd hump all kinds of noises out of you. Bet I could make a whole song out of just them. Tweaking the vocals here and there, fuck- just fucking make music out of the way you beg me to fuck your little twink ass Kelly."

There's a strangled noise echoing in Marshall's ears. "F-fuck-" Kelly is breaking down into delicious gasps and moans completely now. A long whine slipping out and then the muffled sounds of fabric dragging against the microphone for a moment. Loud enough to make the older male cringe and stutter in his own rapid jerking before its repeated and Kelly's voice is back. Just as breathless sounding, and slightly muffled every few words. “O-Only if I get to do the sa-same to yours, old man.”

The insult has Marshall’s lips curling up at the edges in a smirk. “You think you’re talented enough to drag a peep outta me?” Ironically his next jerk has him stifling a groan with a fist in his mouth. He’d like to see Kelly working hard to please him, just rubbing his ass back and moaning whorishly. Trailing those large hands back over his hip to pull him closer or even reaching back to curl around the back of his head.

A deep chuckle that ends in a groan is the blondes reply, whatever words that follow it are completely muffled. As if the boy was talking into a pillow. Not knowing what was said actually bothers Marshall some, eyebrows furrowing and fantasy clouding with uncertainty. There’s no reason for the Kelly he has bent over in the studio to sound like that.

“What the fuck are you doing over there?” His quick temper is appearing again. Hand slowing in its glide. “Only thing your muffled whining is gonna draw out of me is a yawn.”

Another groan, more wet jerking sounds. “Mmm, I’m-fuck-”Kelly’s deep voice is rising a few octaves again, “I rolled onto my stomach to- ah- to fuck my fist,” A hum vibrates the headphones over Marshall's ears and he has to shut his eyes once again. The mental image of shoving Kelly face down into the sheets wasn't bad either he supposed. Especially if the blonde was gonna be more talkative because of it. "Wish it was yours Em-fuck- I could-couldn't pull my hair and hold the phone at the same time-" a breathless laugh.

"You like your hair pulled that bad?" Marshall is chewing his lip again, its gonna look like he had an allergic reaction by the end of the night at this rate. Imagining the younger male desperately yanking on his own bleached locks and thrusting pathetically into his fist is almost porn worthy. Something he'd love to see a video of.

"Y-you said you'd-ah- want to pull it-" Kelly's voice climbs up into a whine. "What're you doing?" The you is punctuated by a gasp, the blonde's breathing speeding up ever so slightly.

The question flusters Marshall for a moment, he's not expecting it. He’s struggling to imagine what could be all that sexy about him just jerking himself off in his studio, he’s not some slutty twink like Kelly who's undoubtedly drooling all over his sheets. If anything it almost sounds pathetic at his age. His pause is long enough for the other rapper to grunt and teasingly mock his own earlier question. 

"Cat got your tongue?"

Marshall can almost feel the smirk on the other end of the phone call, can imagine Kelly peeking over his shoulder up at him and cockily asking the question with flushed cheeks and a teasing tongue. From what he had seen online it was rare for the boy not to have it hanging out of his mouth.

Cheeks burning Marshall all but growls and squeezes himself a tad tighter. Intent on not letting some young brat who could barely get a word out when they first started seize control now. "Got so bored I toned your annoying ass out actually," he takes a moment to glare down at his own jerking hand before grunting and starting up a new fantasy. The previous imagery of Kelly's pink tongue coming to mind. "I'm sitting on my couch wishing I was burying my cock down your throat. Seems like it'd be the quickest way to shut you up."

"In...in your living room?" Kelly is back to using that soft tone, his nervous curiosity sounds out clearly through the small speakers covering the older rappers ears. 

Marshall ponders for a minute about what to say, just focusing on the slick glide of his hand up and down. This has been going on for longer than hes used to, he's leaking and ready to just finish by now. "At my studio…" A chuckle rumbles up. "Told you I wanted to make music out of your whorish whining."

"W-what?" Kelly's breath catches this time from shock, the way his voice climbs to almost a squeak has a laugh threatening to bubble up. Instead the brunette presses forward, bringing his hand up to add his own spit into the mix. Making his next jerk all that much smoother.

"Yeah, I'm sitting here with my headphones on listening to every little breathless gasp or whimper that comes out of your mouth. Could probably replace a porno with your audio and people would be none the wiser. Why don't- fuck-" his composure breaks for a moment a groan breaking up his dirty talk on a particularly good feeling stroke. "Why don't you shove a few fingers in your mouth so I can hear how you sound choking on something? Hm?"

Hes surprised by the downright filthy sounding moan that tickles his ears in return. "F-fuck-" Kelly is still using that higher pitch when he speaks again, except this time his words are muffled. Not by a pillow but like he's actually got a mouth full. "-ike hith?"

The sound makes his cock twitch, his own breath hitching and a knuckle flying up to stuff itself ironically between his teeth as his eyes flutter closed. "Christ Kelly-" his hand leaves his mouth to tightly grip the headphones as the blonde starts moaning. Now with something stuffed in his mouth they're louder, more defined compared to earlier ones.

He takes back his earlier 'almost', now the blonde does sound downright pornographic. Jerking audible and volume climbing. It's got Marshall's breath catching, eyes squeezing shut tightly while he works himself over at a faster pace. At this point he doesn't even care to bite down his own groans and gasps. It seems to excite the blonde because he somehow manages to become even more vocal. Curses and pleas tumbling from his mouth. 

"Oh F-fuck" The finger sucking sounds long forgotten at this point. Kelly too focused on chasing his own orgasm. "You sound so fucking hot-" Another shuddering moan, despite how far gone he is Marshall still preens at the compliment. A grunt the only response he can care to give. Chest fluttering and hips jerking up into his fist. "God I-I can't believe-" Kelly let's out a whimper that echos in the older rappers ears, punches through him and has heat coiling. "Shit! Em! H-Holy-"

The moaning in Marshall's ears funnels down to just choked noises. A mixture of pathetic nonsensical rambling and his stage name. Hearing Kelly tumble over the edge is all he needs to have him cursing himself. Balls tightening and fingers flying. An embarrassingly loud groan makes it's way out of his throat when his head falls back and his release begins painting his hand.

He swears he actually sees stars behind his eyelids, a buzz rolling over his whole body as he slowly comes down from his orgasm. It surprises Marshall just how breathless he still feels when he blinks open bleary eyes. His chest rising and falling visibly even through his baggy clothing. Kelly is breathing just as heavy on the line, if his eyes were still closed he'd probably have assumed the boy was right next to him.

Clarity is coming back quickly, realization settling in on what he’s done. So much for not letting Kelly interrupt his work, and so much for not falling for his bullshit flirtation. He might as well have just called the brat himself last week, gotten it over with then instead of wasting a whole week stressing about it just to give in the first time the rapper reaches back out. At least then he would have been in his hotel room and not covered in his own drying jizz in the studio.

"Fuck-" this time his cursing isn't out of pleasure, it's pure irritation. Disgust is flooding through his veins, the hand that isn't currently covered coming up to pull at the front of his hood. Stretch it out in front of him so he can look down and assess the damage. As if his cum might leak through and stain the t-shirt beneath. Wouldn't that be the icing on the cake? "Ugh,"

While the few drops that landed on his jeans can easily be wiped off the hoodie itself is a lost cause. No way he could wear that out of the room and not have everyone within 20 feet know exactly what he had been up to. He's about to just pull the whole thing off when Kelly's voice crackles back to life in his ears.

The rapper clears his throat but still sounds scratchy and undeniably male. Hard to believe the voice is the same as the one that had been moaning so loudly in his ears just a few moments before. "Do...do you always sound so pissy after you've finished?" The tone is a mixture of amusement and nervousness.

It has Marshall's cheeks burning worse and his back tensing up. His mouth opens and closes a few times, post orgasm brain struggling to fire off all cylinders and provide him with some kind of witty retort. Right now it's too busy focusing on how idiotic he is to even care that Kelly is still listening.

His lack of a comeback has him just sighing loudly and wiping his hand down the front of his already ruined top. Cleaning it up as well as he can before tucking himself away and standing up to fix his jeans. Of course in his fluster he completely forgets about the phone and it yanks up off the couch thanks to the headphone wire still firmly plugged in. Sending it flying when he stumbles in surprise until it pops out and lands with a loud clatter on the table. 

Marshall curses and rapidly runs a hand back and forth over his hair, scratching his scalp in an attempt at calming down and to not just kick the whole coffee table over. With how clumsy he apparently was right now with his luck all it would succeed in doing was stub his toe. 

He at least has the sense to reach down and hit the speaker button on his phone, Kelly's voice filling the room mid sentence. "-fell over from standing up too quick, christ, you really are like 50 huh?" The blonde is outright laughing now, a snicker that has no right sounding as musical as it does considering the brat was taking a dig at his age yet again.

"Fuck off," Marshall huffs and stutters in place for a second. The urge to begin pacing rising up yet again, instead he yanks his hoodie off and balls it up. "Forgot about my phone-" Now he's actually talking to the blonde, explaining himself instead of shooting back an insult. Another huff and the stained top is whipped onto the couch with more force than necessary. Pressing both palms into his eyes Marshall groans and pushes in until he's seeing little white dots instead of stars. “Didn’t hear you complaining about my age when you were moaning my fucking name a few minutes ago.” 

Kelly hums in response, it's a surprisingly cheerful sound. Not at all what the older rapper had expected his comment to illicit. The voice filling the studio sounds downright giddy as the blonde speaks. "Yeah, yeah, you got me there. Just can't believe I just- t-that we just-" Kelly sighs, now Marshall is giving his phone one hell of a confused look. "Fucking surreal, jerking off with Slim fucking Shady-" he was downright fanboying now over the phone.

It made said rapper's stomach churn, he could just imagine how Kelly was rolling around on his sheets like some lovestruck teenage girl. Phone pressed tight to his ear and a finger twirling blonde hair. "Yeah well, it wont be happening again sweetheart. This time listen and lose my fucking number." His voice climbs unnecessarily high, until hes practically shouting at his phone. Fingers tensed and digging into the tabletop bracketing his phone until they're white. It's childish and cowardly but Marshall hits the end call button before Kelly can reply. 

This time he does snatch up the phone and actually block the boys number. Cutting off contact before the younger rapper can try to lure him back in, one colossal mistake was enough for him to learn his lesson.


End file.
